COTCOD VOL 45 - CHRONICLES OF MAMRE'S GLORY
by saruviel
Summary: Chronicles of the Children of Destiny Volume Forty-Five - Chronicles of Mamre's Glory. Will be gradually expanded upon.


THE 1400 - WORLD 13 - CHRONICLES OF MAMRE'S GLORY

Chronicles of Mamre's Glory

The Amazing Adventures of Paul the, uh, Amazing One

Saberton. Lord of the Branhamites of Canberra, dedicated Father and Son Pentecostal,

Crusader against infidels, heretics and all non-jesus people in general, was sitting in his elaborate church office of Mamre Fellowship in the northern most part of Gungahlin, right up against the ACT/NSW border, just were he liked it. In fact, half of the church grounds were in the ACT and half in NSW, and his office was split down the middle by both states.

This, the amazing Paul, had done deliberately. For Paul was a man of two minds and

two purposes in life. Firstly, he was a dedicated servant of his lord and saviour Jesus

the Christ Child of God's Greater Glory, and his immersion into the Church of Canberrra, the heart of the ACT, represented this divine calling.

But, later on, in the years after his conversion, when he was still gently resting in the arms of his lord and saviour, singing lovely praise songs, reading beautiful bible passages, and being, in general, pleasing to all and sundry, Paul dared venture forth both northwards and southwards and eastwards and westwards, into the bolder community of the New South Welshman. And, finding in truth a far more Australian and less complex society than his politically correct ACT of birth and training, the Aussie in Paul Saberton emerged. And in that proud Aussie, who could finally drink beer, yell at the poms in a Sydney cricket test and even, although he would keep his

sin private for all eternity, even visit the Cross and spend time with one of the Devil's Daughter, Paul discovered another side of life he had long been missing. And in the dichotomy of heart which said, Striveth ye for perfection as Jesus teaches, he found another pathway also, were a softer heart, perhaps even a wiser heart, spoke to him in his namesakes glory and said, without grace, dear, dear, Paul, can love be anything but a rigid vessel of conformity, unable to express, dare I say it, even itsmore carnal desires.

Paul liked grace thereafter, and a heavenly apostle rested with his work done.

So, building Mamre fellowship on the Wisdom of the Christ Child and the Wisdom of Love, Paul was a devoted servants of the truths of the New Testament, a book of not just one voice he had come to learn, for the New Testament, sealed in the blood of Christ, yet also had other partakers of spoken wisdom, ancient Paul being one of them.

And then Peter Fletcher showed up.

The End

The Daring Exploits of Brenton the Unbelievable

Brenton, the unbelievable, was in Fyshwick. You know, the place he is often found, engaged in one

of his favourite pastimes. And, for those who know Brenton well, and those who know Fyshwick well,

it doesn't take a genius to know what I am hinting at. Anyway, Brenton was in Fyshwick, arguing with

a Catholic nun at the Fyshwick fresh food markets about the abomination of Babylon which Catholicism,

in Brenton's erudite opinion, had sunk to. The nun was not impressed.

'You know, dear child of Christ, if you talk with Father Murphy, he can correct you on your mistaken

assumptions. The church of Christ even has rooms for innocents such as yourself.'

'Father Murphy probably molests altar boys,' said Brenton the Unbelievable, sarcastcially.

The nun smiled.

'I mean, come on,' said Brenton. 'You guys worship mary as practically God himself. The mother of

God my arse.'

'You just need to study the Catechism. Mary is the mother of the blessed Catholic Church.'

Brenton opened up his bible and turned to Ezekiel, and summarily proceded to quote the passage about

the jews worshipping the queen of heaven.

'But mary really is the queen of heaven,' said the nun.

'Jesus Christ,' said Brenton.

'Don't blaspheme,' rebuked the nun.

Chris, who had been buying strawberries with Ann, rumbled up. 'Catholicism is a whore,' said Chris.

'She fornicates with the world, literally. She is a harlot, dressed in purple.'

'You have a very fertile imagination,' responded the nun. 'You are Brenton's twin, I take it.'

Chris nodded.

Brenton attacked again. 'Luther only had a basic list. We know of thousands, perhaps millions, of doctrinal

deviations by the Catholics. If you actually wanted to be saved, sister, you would get the hell over your

rosaries and try the word of God instead.'

'Oh, dear child. We knew the word of God when your churches were still in their nappies.'

'Bullshit,' swore Brenton, Coughing. Chris Chuckled.

A mormon walked past. Chris motioned to Brenton. 'Let's talk to him.'

'See you sister. Enjoy hell,' were Brenton's last words, as he left to take on the Joseph Smith fanatic.

Later that day, Brenton and Chris having purchased some large model cars from a place in Fyshwick, they

were crapping on about Saberton's latest crusade against the Daly heretic of the Karaite noahides in Tuggeranong.

Lord Saberton, and his Mamre fellowship, which Chris and Brenton had considered joining, but were unattached members

of the Body of Christ, still, officially, were bitterly opposed to the Antichrist himself, in the words of Paul Saberton, the one

who, having known the Graces of God, had trampled on the blood of their redeemer, parading his rainbow covenant.

Saberton had not been impressed.

The current spiel of the Branhamite worshipper was on the obvious stupidity of the natural man - noah's covenant - being

completely unable to perceive spiritual truths. There is a way which seems right to a man - the natural man, commented

Saberton, but the end is the way of death. Brenton and Chris were impressed.

The End

Orange Worker

Paul Saberton looked up at the orange tree, picked an orange, peeled it, ate the fruit, and wandered down to the stream. Here he was, naked, married, in Paul's own private 'Garden of Eden' with his new bride. She was a non-religious naturalist, who believed in God, but hated religion. And, despite himself, he was drawn to her and found her challenge on his faith a calming balm. In the same way opposites attract he found her terribly human behaviour the solace for his still spiritually thirsty soul in the most ironic of ways.

She was on the opposite side of the bank, naked, and waved him over. They talked for a while, made love, and returned to their modern house, just a few hundred metres up stream.

Jesus had been challenging. Explaining in no uncertain terms that if he had known what it had meant when it was written 'I desire mercy and not judgement', he would not have been so quick to condemn the Catholic Church. Paul had responded, in no uncertain terms, that he could not stomach such a faith. Jesus had said, so be it, protestant. And that had been that. And now, committed to being a friend of Jesus forever, for that would not change, he had done it. Renounced his Christianity. He really did not think he could stomach the Noahide thing which Daniel maintained and, instead, found his solace in Naomi Peterson, the naturalist and non-religious bride he had found himself with. And, despite himself, he was letting it go. Letting go of religion being the driving force in his life and, instead, simply going with nature's way. The natural order. Not being dictated to by words in a book, but by the natural rhythms of heavenly life. And it was funny – a weight had lifted because of it.

He had been this way now for a century and, while Jesus visited occasionally, having been instructed by God to pay particular attention to Paul Saberton for certain doctrinal reasons, Paul drifted away into the simple life. The basic life. And he knew, in the way his soul was healing, not being dictated to in how to heal, but healing naturally, he was content.

The End

The Daring Exploits of Brenton the Unbelievable III: The Pyramid of Time

'Sabertooth. What the fuck are we doing in Cairo?' asked the Lord Peter Fletcher of the Roman Catholic Church of True Universal Glory. Paul Saberton, Brenton White and Peter Fletcher were in Eternya, in Egypt 478.

'Smoking weed,' said Brenton. 'He has some in his bag. Bought it from a muslim fucker at the pyramid.'

'You got weed, bro?' asked the Fletch.

'He has weed,' said Brenton.

Paul looked at them, smiled, and kept on walking down the Cairo alleyway.

'We are meeting Sabenia,' said Paul. 'She is Mamre's top weapon in the new agenda.'

'Sabenia?' asked Brenton. 'The babe.'

Paul glared at him. 'Keep your fantasies in your pant's, unbelievable boy. She's not interested.'

'He think's he's in,' sniggered the Fletch to Brenton.

Paul glared at the Fletch. 'Sabenia and I are just good friends, Peter. She is a competent soul winner for Mamre here in Cairo and we have much work to do.'

'Screwing egyptian chicks,' sniggered the Fletch to Brenton.

'Paul. Fuck Sabenia. This place here looks cool. Let's get some strong coffee and Turkish delight and get high.'

Paul looked at them, and didn't object.

A while later, as they were smoking away, Sabenia found them.

'Where the hell have you been Saberton?' she asked him. 'And what the hell are you smoking.'

'Why does she have a pyramid on her head?' asked Brenton.

'I don't see any pyramid,' said Peter. 'But she's got nice...'

'Excuse me Sabenia,' said Paul, and kicked Peter under the table. Sabenia had rather attractive and large breasts, and they were not trying to be hidden.

'Seriously,' said Brenton. 'There is this pyramid above her head. And look, Dr Who is coming out of it. Hello Dr Who,' said Brenton.

The three others looked on Brenton. He was wasted.

'This is some good shit,' said Brenton regarding the weed. 'Oh, you agree Doctor. And K9 thinks so too.'

'He's nuts,' said Sabenia.

'Oh, he's gone back inside the Tardis,' said Brenton. And its flying away.'

The three of them gazed at Brenton as he tilted his head upwards looking after his vision splendid.

'Can't handle his shit,' said the Fletch.

'I am actually a Dr Who fan,' said Sabenia, sitting down. 'I dreamed once, funnily enough, his Tardis was a pyramid.'

'Your a babe,' said Brenton, blurting it out.

Sabenia grinned at him. She seemed to like him.

'How's the church going?' asked Paul.

'Hakim is growing it well. We have 30 or so regular members now. Not easy here. Islam dominates.'

'Mamre can dominate too,' said Paul. 'We are Pentecostal and we are proud. We have more to offer than Sharia law can ever satisfy.'

'Tell that to the Muslims,' said Sabenia. 'They call Mamre an upstart church anyway. Don't like us at all. All the serpent seed teaching.'

'It's our teaching. It's our knowledge,' said Paul. 'Time, I'm sure, will justify our truths.'

'I guess,' said Sabenia.

'Want to dance?' asked Brenton to Sabenia.

She smiled, and nodded, and as they danced to the arabic music playing in the background, Paul looked on curiously. Sabenia was single, and so was Brenton currently. Perhaps old cupid was at work. Funnier things had happened in the life of Brenton the Unbelievable, devotee of Mamre Fellowship, Pentecostal church of Jesus Christ their Lord and Saviour.

The End

Orange Worker II

Naomi Peterson examined the scripture. Bah, how boring, she thought to herself, but remembered her love for her husband. Somehow, Branham was scripture, in the grand scheme of things. What a naturalist could give a damn for in the words of William Marrion Branham, in all her long eternity, she had yet to figure out. But Paul Saberton, her husband, got off on the guy.

'Beware the Serpent,' she said to Paul, as he came in naked from the Garden, their home, with a basket full of oranges.

'Very funny,' he said. 'What, have you finally been reading some of William's works?'

'Just reading about the Serpent Seed. Don't agree at all, you know. For starters, most of that church is still about the same on its morals, and they get by well enough. Nothing really ever changed. And the world is still the same old place I have always known. What, does it take an eternity of eternity's for the serpent seed to show its true colours, or what?'

'No, probably not,' said Paul. 'Look, I sort of preach the doctrine in Mamre, and to help us set a good example compared to the ways of the world. But, no. We don't take it completely literally anymore. More of encouraging words from Branham not to take after the Serpent and have decent standards. Jesus upholds Mamre's teaching, so its our doctrine, and we use it. The message doesn't change. It's just the way it is.'

'Fine, then,' said Naomi. 'As a naturalist I believe that a man can be all sorts of crazy behaviour in his heart. But that, in his actions, he usually shits, shags and eats crap. And the rest is really just much ado about nothing.'

'Well, I need a shit,' said Paul. 'And I'm hungry too. But afterwards, if you are in the mood?'

Naomi smiled. 'You are a serpent, aren't you.'

And all Paul could really say to that was Amen.

The End


End file.
